


Tap That

by teprometo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's irritability has unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tap That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samyazaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samyazaz/gifts).



> Written for Samy based on this kink description:
>
>> Flaws. Idiosyncracies. Characters being assholes. Other characters being assholes right back. Assholes falling in love with each other despite and because of their assholeish ways, and maybe even learning and growing in he process.

Merlin is always tapping on shit, and it drives Arthur fucking batty. He's yelled at him about it countless times, snatched pens and phones and on one notable occasion a fucking _breadstick_ out of his hands, but Merlin always finds more things to tap. This time it's his foot, and Arthur claps a hand down on Merlin's knee.

“Stop. Tapping.”

But Merlin just looks him in the eye and starts rapping his knuckles on the table, a smirk blooming on his mouth that Arthur sort of wants to bite off of him, which is admittedly a little weird. He knocks Merlin's hands away from the table, but Merlin just moves them to his lap and starts tapping a rhythm against his thighs. It’s a game now, and Arthur wants to play. He snatches up Merlin’s wrists and holds them tight over Merlin’s head.

“Try tapping now,” Arthur says, feeling triumphant.

Which is premature, it turns out, because Merlin ups the stakes by thrusting himself back and forth in his chair, courting embarrassing disaster for the sake of making his chair legs crack against the linoleum. So Arthur does the sensible thing and sits on him, using his weight to hold the chair down. But he doesn’t really sit so much as he straddles, and his and Merlin’s hands are sort of pinched between their chests, and Merlin starts rocking again, which is … well, it sure is _something_. The chair lurches a bit here and there, but all Merlin really succeeds in doing is rubbing his body up against Arthur’s crotch, and the last thing Arthur wants to deal with is an accidental stiffy while he’s more or less riding his best mate like a mechanical bull.

But he can’t give in, so he grips Merlin’s wrists a bit tighter and clamps his thighs around Merlin’s hips in an effort to still him. Which are both bad ideas because Merlin spreads his fingers out across Arthur’s chest, probably trying to relieve some of the strain in his wrists, and the tension in Arthur’s thighs really just serves to get the blood pumping down faster. Arthur is sort of mortified by how turned on he’s getting, especially when it’s _Merlin_ under him and he’s looking at him _like that_ , all defiance and determination.

Merlin leans forward, up, his face close to Arthur’s, and Arthur feels a surprising heat in his belly when he thinks Merlin is going to kiss him, dark lashes looking coquettish from this vantage point. His breath gets caught in his chest as Merlin nears, and he lets go of Merlin’s wrists, moving his hands up to Merlin’s warm neck.

Merlin jerks himself back hard, and the chair begins to topple over, the shift in gravity flooding Arthur with adrenaline. He manages to get his hand behind Merlin’s head before they crash to the ground and earns some very painful, probably very bruised knuckles for his trouble.

“Oww,” Merlin whines, smiling madly, his eyes lit up and gleeful.

“You twat,” Arthur says, trying to disentangle himself from Merlin with hopes of fleeing to the loo. But Merlin’s hands are sudden and strong around Arthur’s hips, pulling him down, and Arthur maybe hitches up against him. Just a little bit. Merlin’s jaw falls open, his lips quirking, and he slides his legs open a little bit. He pulls Arthur against him again, and Arthur goes, harder, a proper thrust this time. Merlin groans into it.

Arthur really isn’t sure how Merlin’s shirt gets bunched up, and he has no fucking clue how Merlin’s trousers end up around his knees and Arthur’s dangle from a single ankle. He does know that the spit-slicked slide of their bare cocks against each other is sort of brilliant and that the sounds Merlin makes when he’s getting fucked will fuel pretty much every wank session in Arthur’s foreseeable future.

Merlin is all sweaty and gorgeous, his forehead pinched and his mouth open, hands fisting in Arthur’s shirt. Arthur doesn’t want to fuck this up, to correct whatever temporary lapse in judgment has allowed this to happen, but god, he wants to look at Merlin. So he takes a chance and sits back, hands stroking down Merlin’s torso.

And Merlin is sort of a masterpiece like this, from his sharp chin to his tight nipples, the neat line of dark hair down his abdomen. Arthur grabs his own cock and gives it a few frantic tugs, feeling high from the way Merlin watches him, eyes dark and body incredibly still. Arthur feels like a fucking slut when he comes for Merlin, legs spread wide around Merlin’s hips, and he loves it. He spurts across Merlin’s abdomen, viscerally satisfied by the look of his come glistening on Merlin’s tight body.

He wants to see Merlin come all over himself, so he grabs Merlin’s cock tight in his fist and pulls, tugs on him until he’s sobbing, until he shoots off clear up to his own chin. Merlin bangs his fist on the ground repeatedly when he comes, and Arthur lets him, conceding the game.


End file.
